Ichneutae

Sophocles

Sophocles. Tracking Satyrs. Mahoney, Anne (Anne Elizabeth), translator.

  1. Hey, ---,
  2. , and not ---
Silenus
  1. Does anyone say, or does anyone know, where the cattle are?[*](From Walker’s supplements) It seems that I must begin the search. Come, all of you, track them by their scent, if there is any trace left anywhere. Bent over, crouching to the ground, be guided by the scent. Carry out your search this way and bring it to a worthy fulfilment.
Exit Silenus. The satyrs divide into two groups and begin sniffing around the stage.
Semi-chorus A
  1. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god: aha! We seem to have it. Stand still, don’t move.
Semi-chorus B
  1. There they are: the marks of the cattle.
Semi-chorus A
  1. Quiet! Some god is taking them to a new home.
Semi-chorus B
  1. What should we do, my friend? Do we have to get them out?
Semi-chorus A
  1. Why? Do you think they’re in here?
Semi-chorus B
  1. Definitely. All the signs say so clearly.
Semi-chorus A
  1. Look! Here’s the same hoof mark again.
Semi-chorus B
  1. Look at that!
  2. They measure out to exactly the same size.
Semi-chorus A
  1. Make way, and --- if you hear any sound from the cattle.
Semi-chorus B
  1. I don’t yet hear their voices clearly. But these tracks and footprints are obviously those of the cattle.
Semi-chorus A
  1. Hey! As Zeus is my witness, the tracks turn around and go backward. Look at them.
  2. Why is that? Why would their line wheel around? The front is turned to the back, and they’re all tangled up together. The cowherd must have been awfully confused.
Silenus
  1. What kind of a way to hunt is that, bent over and leaning down to the ground? Where are you going? I don’t understand. You’re lying there like a hedgehog fallen on the ground, or an ape sticking his head forward and having a temper tantrum. What’s this? Where on earth did you learn this, and how?
  2. Tell me, because I certainly don’t understand what you’re doing.
Chorus
  1. Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!
Silenus
  1. What are you ooh-ooh-ing for? What are you afraid of? What do you see? What frightful thing are you looking at? Why are you carrying on like bacchantes? Is there a hawk nearby? From offstage, we hear a lyre being tuned. Since the player is in fact Hermes, it sounds divine, but no mortal has ever heard this instrument before, and the satyrs are terrified. They abruptly stop squealing. Do you want to know what it was? Why are you so quiet, when you were just now babbling away?